Send Angel! (A Frank Angel Western #2) (13 page)

Boot rolled out of his blankets
almost before the animal had finished blowing the air through its
nostrils, his right hand snatching the
six-gun from the holster by his head,
eyes searching the blackness for his assailant. He saw Angel diving
for the cover of the rocks, and the gun in his hand boomed, the
slug ricocheting off the sandstone and filling the air with
flickering splinters of rock. Angel rolled backwards away from the
first hiding place as Boot scuttled across the open bottom of the
arroyo, moving to another position as the gunman found shelter
behind a tilted rock lying on the sloping side of the
riverbed.

‘
Who
the hell are you?’ shouted Boot.

Angel remained silent.

‘
Speak, damn you!’ yelled Boot. ‘Who’s there?’

While the man was shouting, Angel moved
again. On all fours he slid halfway up the far side of the arroyo
away from where Boot lay hidden. He heard Boot shout again and fire
another shot, the report booming in the darkness, the flash muted
behind the rock. In the moments of that noise, Angel was over the
rim of the arroyo and on the flat scrubland above it, easing along
on his hands and belly, his gun held ready but uncocked.

He heard a scuttling down below
and peered over the edge. Boot had changed his position, and was
now belly down on the sandy arroyo bed, trying to get back to his
bedroll. Angel grinned: Boot had forgotten to grab his cartridge
belt and had suddenly realized he had only three shots left in the
gun. Angel
’s
fingers closed around a big pebble and he tossed it up the arroyo
behind Boot’s back. Boot rolled over and faced the direction of the
sound, ready to fire. In that moment Angel loosed off a shot which
ripped the back of Boot’s calf, tearing through the leather of his
boot and searing the soft muscle. Boot screamed in agony and rolled
away behind the rock he had used previously.

‘
Johnny,’ Angel called. Up this high, he knew his voice
would sound disembodied; Boot would find it difficult to pinpoint
Angel’s position.

‘
Who
the hell are you?’ shouted Boot. ‘Show yourself!’

Angel could hear the
man
’s
muttered curses, could almost see in his mind’s eye Boot’s frantic
efforts to staunch the flow of blood from his ripped
leg.

‘
Johnny!’ Angel’s voice was peremptory now. ‘Where’s the
girl, Johnny?’

‘
Angel?’ There was disbelief in Boot’s voice. ‘Angel? Is
that you?’

‘
It’s
me. Where’s the girl?’

He heard Boot chuckle maliciously.

‘
What’s it worth to you, Angel?’

‘
You’re in no spot to bargain, Johnny,’ Angel said. To
emphasize his point he drove three bullets into various angles of
the slanted rock sheltering Boot. The whining, disintegrating slugs
and the splintered stone drove Boot down flat for safety, cursing
as he filled his unprepared mouth with sand.

Angel rolled to a new position and fired two
more rounds rapidly, the slugs angling off the rock, cutting
through the air like demented hornets as they caromed. He reloaded
quickly, letting Boot hear the sound of the chamber as he turned
it.

T got all night and plenty of
bullets, Johnny,
’ he called. ‘Where’s the girl?’

‘
Go to
hell,’ yelled Boot, then ducked flat again as Angel blasted two
more bullets against the rock.

‘
One
of those slugs is going to find you sooner or later, Johnny!’
yelled Angel. ‘Better talk!’

Boot fired at the place where
he had seen the
gun flashes, but Angel was well away from there, rolling
soundlessly to a new position. Each time, he opened the angle
slightly more. It would only be a matter of time before he could
bounce a slug off the rock and hit the crouching man.

‘
She’s
long gone, Angel!’ Boot yelled. His laugh was maniacal. ‘Willy took
a shine to her.’

‘
Where’s he headed, Johnny?’

‘
Go to
hell!’ yelled Boot

‘
See
you there!’ Angel replied coldly, letting another pair of slugs
smash chunks out of Boot’s shelter.

‘
I can
stay here all night, Angel!’ yelled Boot ‘Why don’t you show
yourself like a man?’

Angel blasted the rock again
and then again, rolling aside and this time coming near the edge of
the arroyo. He reloaded. The
gun barrel was hot He heard Boot shout as he
moved, knew he had hit the man, but not how badly.

‘
Damn
... you!’ Boot shouted. His voice was thinner. Angel nodded
grimly.

‘
Last
chance, Johnny!’ he called. ‘The next one’s got your name on
it.’

‘
Won’t
do you ... no good, Angel,’ Boot said. His voice slurred a little.
‘She’s well broke. The boys ... had their fun with hen’ His
laughter was touched with a final madness. ‘All of us ...
bitch.’

Angel showed the man a target
He raised his head and shoulders up above the rim of the arroyo and
then ducked down again in one smooth movement and
Boot
’s
six-gun boomed, the slug splashing the sandy earth a few feet away
from Angel.

‘
One
left, Johnny,’ he called. ‘How you liking it down
there?’

Boot let fly with a stream of curses,
calling his assailant every filthy thing he could lay tongue
to.

‘
Sure,
sure,’ Angel called. ‘You and Willy fall out, Johnny?’

‘
Damn
you ...’ Boot’s cough interrupted whatever he had been going to
say. It sounded like the sick cough of a wounded man, but Angel was
taking no chances. He moved now like a cat, stealthily through the
darkness, swiftly across the open spaces between the looming
cactus, heading up the lip of the arroyo fifty, sixty, seventy feet
away from where he had been lying. Then he edged over the rim of
the arroyo and slid carefully down to the base of the declivity. He
crouched, six-gun ready, on the sandy floor of the dried river bed.
Moving like a shadow, easing from one piece of sparse shelter to
the next, Angel made his way up behind Boot. The thinnest streak of
grey was touching the blackness of the sky. He could see the dark
blob that was Boot slumped behind the rock.

‘
Let
go of the gun, Johnny,’ he said softly.

Boot did not move.

‘
Last
warning, Johnny. Toss the gun out away from yourself.’

Still not a flicker of
movem
ent,
not a sound. Was Boot playing possum? Angel drew a breath and moved
out into the open, six-gun at full cock and trained on the slumped
form of the gunman. Boot lay with his arm outstretched, the gun
lying just beyond his splayed fingers. Angel stepped forward and
kicked the gun away, and in that moment Boot came up off the floor,
his other hand full of sand which he tossed into Angel’s face. In
the same desperate movement Boot rolled towards the six-gun Angel
had kicked aside, his hand fastening on it, easing the hammer back.
The barrel lifted towards Angel and Johnny Boot died with the evil
delight on his face of a man who has pulled off something very
smart, very difficult, sure that he had won. Angel’s bullet smashed
Johnny Boot flat dead on the sand. He looked down at the crumpled
body, the anger still searing through his body.

‘
You
died too easy,’ he said.

Their grisly duty done, the troopers
returned to Fort Daranga. Thompson led them in, stepping down from
the saddle and beating the dust from his uniform, then stamping up
the steps into his office. Lieutenant Ellis came to attention
behind the desk.

‘
Get
me a drink, Mr. Ellis,’ the colonel said, slumping into his chair.
Ellis hastened to pour a generous measure of whisky and placed the
tin cup on the desk before the grey-faced soldier.

‘
I’ve
never seen anything like it,’ Thompson said, as though to himself.
‘Not in peacetime. Never.’

‘
It
was bad, then?’ Ellis prompted. He had stayed behind in command
during the absence of the patrol.

‘
Bad,
bad?’ Thompson snarled, ‘It was ... it was ... aaah!’ He hurled the
tin cup at the wall and pushed his chair back from the desk. ‘I’m
going to get a wash and shave,’ he said. ‘Get Sergeant Battle to
give you a full report. I’ll add my observations.’

‘
Before you go, sir...’ Ellis said hesitantly.

‘
What
is it, mister? I’m dog tired.’

‘
Jacey
Reynolds is here, sir. He asked specially to see you.’ The young
soldier put definite emphasis on each word. Thompson looked up, his
eyes wary.

‘
He
say what he wanted, Peter?’

‘
No,
sir, but I can guess.’ Ellis jerked his head towards the window,
through which they could clearly see the guardhouse across the
parade ground.

‘
Tell
him I’m in my quarters,’ Thompson said.

‘
You
want me to come as well?’ Ellis put in, Thompson squeezed the
bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. ‘What? Oh, I don’t
know. Yes. No. perhaps you’d better not. Let me talk to him
first.’

Ellis simply stood and looked
at Thompson whose gaze fell, then came up again
defiantly. ‘Leave it to me.
It’s all right: leave it to me.’

Yes, sir,
’ Ellis said. There was
absolutely no emphasis on either word.

Thompson went out of the office
and across to his quarters, returning the salutes of enlisted men
he passed on his way. He went into the building, relishing the cool
shaded interior after the furnace heat of the high country. There
was a pitcher of water on the bureau, a damp cloth across the top
to keep it cool. He poured a glass full, drank it, then another.
Stripping off his field jacket, he let his suspenders down over his
shoulders and pulled the
woolen shirt over his head. His body was streaked
with muddy marks where sweat and dirt had mixed. He emptied the
rest of the water in the pitcher into an earthenware bowl,
splashing it on his face and then using the end of a rough towel to
scrub the dirt off his body. He was drying himself when there was a
discreet knock on the doorframe. He turned to see Jacey Reynolds
standing in the open doorway, smiling like a cat, the familiar
briar pipe clenched between his teeth. Reynolds took the pipe out
of his mouth with his right hand and waved it as a sort of
greeting. He came into the room and sat down without
ceremony.

‘
Colonel,’ he said. ‘Hear there’s been trouble at the high
country ranches.’ Thompson just looked at him, his gaze flat and
unbending. Reynolds gave a crooked grin.

‘
These
are hard times,’ he said.

‘
Don’t
give me that shit, Jace,’ Thompson said. ‘You weren’t up there. It
was ... diabolical!’

‘
It
was necessary,’ Reynolds said abruptly, ‘and you know it, so don’t
give me
that
shit, Brian!’

‘
I
never knew...’ began Thompson, all the force gone from his
voice.

‘
...
it would be like this?’ jeered Reynolds. ‘You want to play at the
top table, soldier, you got to accept the stakes. If this deal goes
through we’ll all be in clover. And the Man got word from
Washington: time is running out.’

‘
You
mean they’re going to ...’

‘
Shut
your mouth!’ hissed Reynolds. ‘Sometimes that loose mouth of yours
worries me,’ he went on, his voice resuming its normal sliding
cadences. ‘Rule one: we don’t ever mention what we know,
right?’

Thompson nodded dumbly.

‘
We
have to control that land. There was no other way,’ Reynolds said.
He spread his hands. ‘Regrettable, but. ..’ he let the words drift
away. ‘Now we have another problem.’

Thompson sighed. He went to the bureau and
pulled out a clean shirt, pulling it over his head.

‘
Larkin,’ Reynolds said. Thompson froze, his arms in the
air, standing like a fond father trying to frighten a child by
playing bugaboo. He poked his face through the collar
opening.

‘
Larkin?’ he squeaked.

‘
The
Man said he knows too much,’ Reynolds said. His voice was very
mild. He puffed on the pipe contentedly.

‘
Then
maybe he ought to come up here and take care of it himself,’ railed
Thompson. ‘He ...’

‘
...
he’d take it badly if he knew you felt that way, Brian,’ Reynolds
interrupted, his voice as mild as ever. ‘You’ve done very nicely
out of all this.’ He waved his arm to encompass the environs of the
fort. ‘A nice rake-off on the trading at the store. Plenty of cheap
liquor. And don’t forget those IOUs of yours...’

‘
I’ll
pay them off, damn you,’ ground out Thompson. ‘A man’d go crazy up
here unless he could do something.’

Reynolds held up a thin
hand.
‘I’m
not sayin’ you shouldn’t play cards, Brian,’ he remonstrated
gently. ‘Just reminding you that you owe us the best part of a
thousand dollars. Now if that was to be brought to the attention of
some people in Washington that the Man knows . . .’

‘
All
right, damn you!’ growled Thompson, shaking his head angrily like a
roped steer. ‘All right!’

‘
That’s better,’ Reynolds said. ‘Now look. It’s as easy as
stealing candy from kids. Larkin is going to make a break for
it.’

‘
He
can’t...’ began Thompson.

‘
Listen to me!’ snapped Reynolds, his indolence falling
away. ‘You just do like I say and everything will be sweet and
easy. I already found out that you gave orders Larkin was to be
shot on sight if he tried to escape. Well...’ he grinned evilly.
‘Doesn’t that suggest anything to you?’

‘
You
mean.. . ?’

‘
Ley
del fuego,’
nodded Reynolds. ‘You got it in one. That tame boy-soldier
of yours ... what’s his name?’

‘
Ellis,’ Thompson replied.

‘
He’s
been in on this, hasn’t he?’

‘
You
know he has. He’s bled me white.’

Reynolds smiled.
‘I know. You’ve
been very foolish, Brian.’

He steepled his Fingers, leaning back in the
armchair and smiling.

‘
All
he has to do is get a gun to Larkin,’ he said. ‘He can do that,
can’t he?’

‘
I
suppose so ...’ said Thompson reluctantly.

‘
Well,
then,’ Reynolds said, spreading his hands again. ‘That’s all there
is to it.’ He got up from the chair and walked towards the door.
‘Don’t botch it, Colonel,’ he said, warningly. ‘That could be ...
fatal.’

Thompson glared at his
retreating back, and when Reynolds was gone, he slammed the drawer
of the bureau shut with a savage gesture. He let his eyes
roam
restlessly around the cramped room, counting up mentally
the pitifully few things in it which were his personal
belongings.

‘
Forty
years,’ he muttered. ‘For what?’

His eyes fell on the framed
portrait which stood on the small table at the side of his bed. It
showed a group of cadets in West Point uniforms, all smiling
bravely at the camera, their youthful faces full of the future. The
Class of
‘39. He picked the photograph up and laid it face down.
Then he went to the door and sent his orderly to fetch Lieutenant
Ellis.